Whose End is Destruction
by ilysia
Summary: It was not mere chance that led the White Stag into Narnia at the end of the Golden Age, for destiny lies heavier on some than on others.


**Disclaimer:** Narnia and all characters associated with Narnia are property of the CS Lewis estate.  
**Author's Note:** This is distantly related to and inspired by the last few chapters of another story, on which I was working when I wrote this. Just a small piece looking at a character that seems sadly underrepresented.

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**Whose End is Destruction**

In the wild, windswept vastness of the northern plains, a single pair of eyes was turned towards the cloudless sky. The stars shimmered brilliantly, seemingly larger here than in warmer, friendlier lands. Their dance, too, seemed different; older, perhaps, and more solemn.

It was easy to hear the voices of the stars in the north, for all else was silent; even the wind, through some strange chance, was no more than a whisper as it traversed the frozen land. In all the miles of barren plains there could be heard only the bittersweet silver of the stars' song and the quiet, even breaths of the lone watcher.

Lowering his noble head as through troubled, the White Stag turned his eyes from the midnight sky and snorted. Such news from the stars this night! Such sad melodies they sang, themes of regret and loss and fading. Such melodies as the Stag had not heard since the Witch had come in all her terrible power.

A quick shiver raced across his skin; foreboding, perhaps. And then he snorted again and leapt away, hoping to leave his terrible sense of destiny behind.

Like moonlight he ran, swift and silent as silver sliding over the land. His white coat, shining already with a light of its own, pulled in the light of the brilliant stars so that it seemed he was racing his shadow northwards across the empty plains. Faster and faster he galloped, but always the feeling of doom ran with him, too close to escape, too commanding to abandon.

With great resignation he slowed, leagues and leagues northward of where he had started, and accepted that even he could not outrun whatever fate chased him this night. Stopping at the edge of a small pool that had not yet been conquered by winter's chill, he faced the stars again. Sides heaving, heart racing, the White Stag turned liquid eyes that were now full of regret towards the sky. Putting aside all of his own doubts, he listened.

At first he heard only the bittersweet voices of the stars. Theirs was a sad song, and old, full of the loss and beauty of a people that had seen kingdoms rise and fall in this sphere for time out of mind. Their song had always been thus, full of longing and memory and the hope for a world that may never come. But tonight there was something more immediate in their lament, and it was that immediacy which gave the Stag pause. It was that immediacy which chilled his blood and had sent him running off into the night.

Shaking his head in irritation with himself, he pushed all thoughts of ignoring the stars' summons from his mind. It was not his place to question these things. And so he listened once more, and heard.

If there had been anyone in the vast northern waste with eyes to see, they would have seen a strange and terrible sight, for when the White Stag heard the cause for the stars' immediacy, a strange stillness came over him and he stood as one petrified for many long moments. The silence dragged on as the Stag waited, and the summons became louder, until it finally became too loud to ignore.

Beneath the endless sky, the pool reflected a single Stag, his head lowered in obeisance. In the dark water, the stars were arrayed about his head, gems caught fast in the ancient antlers of a world-weary traveler.

The White Stag swung to the south. Despite his own misgivings, despite his own agony at the thought of what he had been called upon to do, he knew it was not his place to question the words of the Emperor-Over-the-Sea.

And so, without even a backward glance, the White Stag ran south. The stars sang overhead as he went south to a bright little land at the command of his sovereign lord.

He went south with a heavy burden, bearing with himself a harsh doom. He went south with the terrible knowledge that his entrance into Narnia heralded the beginning of the end of the Golden Age.


End file.
